Clingy Americans and Possibly Raped Canadians
by FREEDOM HERO and Hatadian
Summary: where america angsts about not seeing canada for nearly a week and writes a letter to his bro about it.


**So, because my dickhead of a brosef refuses to upload this**

**I, Kawaii Bishyness, have decided to.**

**Pineapple Desu wrote this for me one day when I ran away halfway. So basically, I'm Canada and she's America. **

**(Although you should know by now.)**

**((Brb, going off to brag to friends.))  
**

America sat on a boulder, staring into space. He was rather irritated, and for once, Russia wasn't the source of it. Today, it was the fact he had seen his brother for only a short period of time that day, and then Mexico had kidnapped him in the middle of their chat, and when America returned, Canada hadn't been there.

God, it was so annoying. The very earth seemed to detest their broness. It conspired to keep them apart. It would have been more successful if they weren't on the same continent.

He was seriously ready to start a war with Earth itself.

Just when he thought he actually might, a hand alighted on his shoulder, and he turned to face England, who dropped down beside him. "Do you miss Canada that much?" the older nation inquired, slinging an arm around America's shoulders. "Nearly a week is nothing, compared to some of us." The last half of the sentence was said pointedly.

America sighed, seeming to deflate. "I know, but..." He bit his lower lip. "We're bros, you know? Not bros like us, but real bros."

"Thanks for clearing that up," England said dryly.

America smiled a bit guiltily. "Sorry."

They sat in silence for a while before the hamburger lover spoke again. "Let's take you and I as an example. I want to see him as much as you wanted to see me when I was a kid." He gestured toward the shorter man. "Not because he's my escape from normal life, but because we are BROSEFS."

England blinked at him. "Brosefs?" he repeated questioningly, the word foreign on his tongue.

"Brosefs," America confirmed.

England pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "Where did I go wrong? You make up such ridiculous things these days..." Glancing at America's wounded expression, he groaned and lowered his hand. "Right... Well, he DID say he had to do something today, didn't he?"

"Or he could've been kidnapped by Vikings," America sulked, "and had his land raped and pillaged, and now they do all sorts of kinky things to him while we sit around and talk about feelings like girls. Or he could be dead in a ditch. Or he might have been stolen by Russia, and now he waits for me to save him while slowly becoming a frozen Canadian popsicle while Russia plans to do dirty, dirty things to him. Or Turkey could have him right now and be forcing him to sing Lady Gaga songs."

England raised one abnormally large eyebrow. "Your imagination surpasses even mine at times like these."

America frowned at him. "You're not helping."

"What do you want me to say? 'Oh, Canada's simply having ice cream with Cuba'? 'He's just making a snowman with Lady Gaga'? 'He's visiting the ruins of the Leaning Tower of Pisa on a blimp so that his face is not spotted and recognized by people who had been there at the time of your escape'?"

America stared at him. "You think he might be making a snowman with Lady Gaga?"

England's palm acquainted itself with America's face.

"... That's a no?" America pushed the offending appendage away and fixed his glasses.

England sighed. "Perhaps not," he relented. "Anyway, why not tell him about it? That would make time pass faster than your moping."

America stared at him for a few seconds while the suggestion registered and gasped, leaning forward with his arms outstretched. He wrapped England in a brief embrace before standing up, inadvertently an action that forced England to release him. "You make the best ideas ever! I knew there was a reason I loved you!"

"And here I thought it was because it was more than just my ideas..." England rolled his eyes, his lips quirking up in a fond smile.

"Yeah, yeah." America whipped out a notepad and a pen, and began scribbling down stuff. In the end, it said:

"CANADA,

Hey, bro! I miss you with the intensity of a thousand burning suns! I hope you aren't dead. Were you raped and pillaged by Vikings? I bet you were. And then I bet they dumped you in a ditch when they were done with you, but then you crawled out, but then you were food for carrion. You were sieged by carnivorous birds, your weapons nothing but whatever you could get your hands on. Fortunately, you managed to defend yourself with a stick, and once the birds left, you were battered and bruised, but alive. You staggered your way to a highway, where you fell in the path of a car. It stopped, however, just in time! The driver was none other than Norway, who had not been part of the raping and pillaging. He dragged you to his backseat and drove back to his house. He carried you in, and was met by a worried Iceland. They checked for injuries and tried to wake you up, but you were out cold, so they gave you a sponge bath because you were all dirty and muddy and stuff. Then they put you in what would have been Iceland's bed, but he was cool with sleeping on the couch. Norway jizzed in his pants from Iceland's voice like twice while you were there.

ANYWAY, you were still unconscious the next morning, so the brothers brought you to a dragon friend of theirs. The dragon went into your dream and told you, 'You must awaken, child. Your brother needs you.' And so you woke up and when Iceland told you of what happened to you, you were sickened by the telling, as it awakened the memories in you, but aroused from the sound of his voice. You were driven back to Norway's place, where he said he could buy you a plane ticket back home. You began plotting of ways you could get Iceland alone during that period, but then you realized what the heck you were doing, so you stopped and made a mental note that you would never think about such things again, no matter how tempting. Because, you know, you love PRUSSIA AND LADY GAGA AND NOT ICELAND.

SO. Norway got you a plane ticket and sent you on your way. When you landed in Mississauga, Ontario, you went home and found your bear curled up on your couch. Now, I am sure you are reaching for your phone to call me and demand what I'm on, but wait! Your eyes were caught by the bear's, and it made you dizzy. You tried to wrench your gaze away to no avail. You felt faint and thought you might die. Your memories slipped away from you like fish in a stream, and finally, your eyes rolled up in your head as you collapsed into the blissful darkness you were now well-acquainted with.

You see, Canada, your bear took your memories of the experience to spare you the terror and the distrust the trauma would lend you. It is indeed a great mercy. I mean, I wish I could forget about September 11, but I can't. It's a part of me now. I'm sorry I made you all freaked out back then. 9-11 made me super paranoid. But I'm all better now. At least you didn't have to go through therapy.

Because I have told you this, I'm pretty sure you can never look at the Nordics the same way again, but don't worry. It might take a century or two, but you can do it! ... Probably! Spain still sends England hateful looks, so... Haha. BUT DON'T WORRY, BRO! I'M YOUR HERO, AND WILL PROTECT YOU FROM FURTHER ABUSE, FAIR MAIDEN! (You can't deny it. You are fair-I mean, you're blond, pale, AND sort of cute-and you're a maiden. Because you might as well be a girl, since you PMS like one. Seriously, you might want to get that checked out.)

Let's hang out soon! I miss you, bro!

BROSEFS FOREVER,

AMERICA"

England read over it and he looked amused when he finished it. "You're truly going to send him this?"

America nodded. "Well, of course! Once I have, Canada and I are even for the time he wouldn't let me sing 'America, Fuck Yeah!'"

"Well..." England handed America back the letter. "Do as you wish. Just make sure to adjust the cameras in his place to ensure you capture his reaction. I'll tell Hungary to fly over there and survey the place 24/7."

America smirked. "This is going to be fun."

"Of course. It's Canada, after all."


End file.
